


say my name

by quiettoxic



Series: tumblr requests [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-22 15:24:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7444252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quiettoxic/pseuds/quiettoxic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For once in his life, Hong Kong wouldn't mind losing a bet, when Norway challenges him--</p><p>"I bet I can make you scream my name."</p>
            </blockquote>





	say my name

**Author's Note:**

> Plus, Hong Kong with a ponytail because _yes_.
> 
> What else do I tag? I have no idea.

There is nothing to herald Norway’s appearance at Hong Kong’s back but a gentle tug on his hair and a low greeting. Hong Kong jumps in surprise, whipping around to face the man’s amused smile.

“You scared the shit out of me!”

Norway inclines his head, dark eyes sweeping over Hong Kong. “I apologise.” He doesn’t look apologetic. “It’s good to see ya. I like your hair like this.”

“Yeah?” Hong Kong touches his ponytail self-consciously. He’s still not sure about it. It feels like he’s a kid again. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They chat a little; catch up, make fun of the other nations attending the meeting, point out how this human’s hair is sticking up stupidly and that one’s shirt is inside out, and have you seen how tan that one is, what’s up with that? This is pretty much the basis for their friendship, and Hong Kong appreciates it.

Afterwards, they ask Iceland to go into the city with them, but he declines, so they take off together instead. The weather is hot in an unpleasant, sticky way, and it’s all Hong Kong can do not to watch Norway’s shirt cling to the lean lines of his body. That won’t do. They’re friends. He catches a sidelong glance, a faint smirk, from Norway and focuses on the street instead. It _won’t do_.

Towards the end of the afternoon, Hong Kong loses Norway among the bits and bobs in an otherwise abandoned curiosities shop that he’s sure China would love. In fact, Hong Kong is almost convinced there’s something magic about the place. But he winds his ponytail around his fingers, trying to look over or through the stands, but he’s not tall enough. He sighs.

“Einar!” he calls. Norway’s human name, as they are in public. It tastes strange on his tongue, the sounds unfamiliar. “Where are you?”

“I assume you mean me,” Norway’s amused voice comes from the end of the aisle, “Leon.”

Hong Kong jumps again, then rolls his eyes to cover it up. “Yes.”

“Mhm.” Norway walks towards him slowly. “I’m not Einar anymore, though. Changed it recently.”

“Oh?” Hong Kong looks up at him as he comes closer, his eyes obscured by the shadows of the racks closing in. The sounds from the street outside are muffled by the towering _stuff_.

“Yeah. Moved house, so I reckoned it was time for a name change.” He leans down. “I’m Sigurd now. Sigurd Landvik.”

“Ah.” Hong Kong’s breath hitches in his throat when Norway leans even closer. “That’s a nice—”

“Please say it for me.”

“Ah—” He takes a step backwards, pushing himself against a stand carrying an assortment of copper cooking utensils. His shirt is sticking to his back and his heart beating in his throat. “What do you mean?”

“Say my name,” Norway repeats, making a slow gesture with his index fingers.

Unsure where he’s going with this, Hong Kong stutters, “Sigurd… Landvik?”

Norway smiles. “Thank you, Leon Li.”

It is undeniably pleasant to be called one’s human name, to let go of the nation part of yourself, but Hong Kong isn’t sure he understands why Norway insisted… Oh, he is reaching out to him. Elegant, pale fingers push his clammy hair aside, then wind into his ponytail, giving it a gentle tug. Hong Kong tilts his head back, looking up at Norway in confusion. He cannot deny the heat that curls in stomach, and hopes to the ancestors he doesn’t have that Norway doesn’t come closer than this.

“I bet I can make you _scream_ my name.”

Oh _fuck_. “What are— What are we betting on?” he asks, curling his toes in his sneakers. They make bets more often, but not about— _This._ Norway almost grins.

“Your dignity?”

“That’s not a good—” But Norway’s lips are on his neck, and Hong Kong’s hands fly up to his shoulders. In all the inappropriate fantasies he’s had about his friend, nothing like _this_ has ever happened. This is better. Unexpected, but better.

“This okay?” Norway asks in a low voice.

“ _Yeah_.”

Pointy cold metal digs into Hong Kong’s sweaty back, and he makes a pained noise that has Norway pulling back, concerned. He shifts, trying to remember how to do anything but stare at Norway’s dark blue eyes or the soft waves of his hair falling across his flushed cheek.

A noise among the shelves. They both look up, Norway straightening so Hong Kong’s eyes are level with his throat. His hand is still tangled in Hong Kong’s hair.

“Come,” he says, so Hong Kong follows his friend to the back of the shop, distantly wondering if Norway’s been here before, because he seems to know exactly where he’s going.

They end up in a small room populated with even more random things. Hong Kong sees a book in Chinese called ‘Secrets of the Turnip King’, but then he is distracted by Norway pushing him up against the door, which clicks shut when his back hits the wood.

Lips on his jaw, brushing the corner of his mouth, hands palming his ass, slipping underneath his jeans.

“I’ve wanted this for a while,” Norway whispers into Hong Kong’s neck, words searing hot into his clammy skin. He makes a small, breathy sound, and feels Norway’s lips curl into a smile.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters in response, trying to find purchase on Norway’s shoulders. The man’s shoulder bag presses into his side.

“Hmm.” And then the hands on his ass are pulling Hong Kong up, sliding around to his thighs, taking his baggy jeans and boxers with them, to hitch his legs up around Norway’s hips. Hong Kong locks his hands behind his neck breathlessly as Norway steps closer to the door, pressing their upper bodies fully together. He hoists Hong Kong higher, bringing his face above Norway’s. Hong Kong can lock his legs around his waist now, and put his elbows on Norway’s shoulders.

“Hold on,” Norway mumbles, removing one hand to rummage in his bag, letting it fall to the floor with a _thunk_ when he’s done.

Fingers on his ass, sliding – _oh_.

“Okay?” Norway asks, circling a hot, slick finger around Hong Kong’s hole.

“ _Yes_.”

A finger sliding inside, Norway nuzzling his throat as Hong Kong buries his hands in the man’s hair, trying to tighten his legs around his waist. His growing erection is trapped by his boxers, and he groans.

“Ah—” A second finger. A hot tongue on his collarbone. Hong Kong tries to press down against Norway.

A hot whisper. “Say my name.”

“Hn—”

“ _My name_ ,” he growls, curling his fingers. His other hand is slipping already, forcing Hong Kong further down.

“Sigurd—” Still in public. Still human names.

It all becomes uncomfortable very quickly; it’s too hot and Hong Kong’s legs start quivering with the effort of keeping nearly his whole weight up. So Norway helps him down, then turns him around and leans over him, pressing his palms against the door with his own fingers lacing through Hong Kong’s. Hong Kong’s jeans slide down his legs, freeing his cock from its hot confines.

“Stay there,” Norway says. Hong Kong hangs his head, panting as he leans on his hands. He curls his fingers into the door when Norway replaces his fingers in his ass, quickly adding a third. This is _so dirty_. It’s amazing. He moans through clenched teeth.

Norway pulls out, and then the hot, blunt head of his cock presses against Hong Kong’s hole. Hong Kong wills his muscles to relax, because he wants this. He wants this so much.

The head of Norway’s cock pops in. Hong Kong is pleased to hear a muffled groan from his friend, and then he twitches when he pulls out again.

“Ah?”

He’s back, and pulling out immediately. The stretch is absolutely delicious.

“Sig— Sigurd, please.”

Norway makes a pleased sound, and the next time he pushes in, it’s as much of his cock as Hong Kong can take in one long stroke. Hong Kong’s arms quiver and almost give out as heat of the good kind spreads through his stomach. Norway breathes hard at his back.

He pulls completely back out, and plunges back in before Hong Kong can react. He makes a strangled noise of pleasure. Norway pushes back in, fingers digging into Hong Kong’s hips, and repeats the action until Hong Kong can feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes because the continuous cycle of stretching and emptiness is _so good_ yet at the same time not enough at all.

“Please,” he gasps, unsure what he is asking for.

“ _Say my name_ ,” Norway replies.

Hong Kong curls his hand into a fist against the door, clenching his eyes shut. Norway pulls out again.

“Fuck, Sigurd, please just—”

His head is yanked back by his ponytail, so he tries to keep it up as Norway _finally_ starts to pound into him in earnest. Every new thrust is a wave of pleasure, and he tries to push back until his ass hits the skin of Norway’s hips, the man’s belt slapping against the backs of his thighs.

“Si _gurd, fuck_ —”

“ _Yes_ ,” Norway breathes. “Let me hear ya.”

He leans over him, letting go of Hong Kong’s hair to slide his hands underneath his T-shirt, one curling around his waist and the other travelling up to tease a nipple. His breath is a hot spot on Hong Kong’s damp back.

It’s almost too much. Hong Kong pants, now leaning on his forearms against the door, resting his head on them and trying to rock back desperately. Norway’s thrusts are hard and fast.

And then he pulls out again, and pushes back in, continuing in the same pace, and Hong Kong nearly sobs.

“ _Sigurd_ —”

“You’re getting’ good at it,” Norway pants against his neck. “A little louder.”

There are long fingers on Hong Kong’s cock, teasing the head, pushing the foreskin back. Lips on his neck.

“ _Say my name_.”

They’re practically in _public_ , and Hong Kong doesn’t even care, because it’s _Norway_ and no one knows him here and he feels so fucking good, hot and pliable under the man’s harsh thrusts. His hand moves in tandem with his hips, and his teeth scrape over Hong Kong’s neck and Hong Kong can feel sweat drops sliding down his nose.

“Ah, Leon,” Norway pants, and then Hong Kong can feel him coming inside of him, even hotter than before. His teeth dig into the skin of his shoulder, muffling his groans, and he keeps fucking into Hong Kong and his hand keeps moving and Hong Kong can’t muffle his own yell as he comes.

“ _Sigurd_!”

His legs practically give out as Norway jerks him through his orgasm, and he slides down the door with the man still inside him. They’re both panting, and Norway’s hair feels damp where it brushes against Hong Kong’s jaw, his forehead clammy against his neck.

Norway’s cock slowly slips out of him as they rest on the dusty ground together.

“We should… Should prob’bly get out of here,” Norway mumbles. “I think I won that bet quite… Thoroughly.”

Hong Kong can’t even reply.

“I know some other things I wanna do with your dignity, Leon.” A pinch of his nipple. Hong Kong gasps. “Most of ‘em require a bed. If y’are not opposed.”

“I’m not,” he manages. “Far from.”

After almost a full minute, they finally scramble to their feet and clean themselves up best they can. Hong Kong gets a quick look at Norway’s cock before he tucks it away, and could swear he feels his own twitch as he remembers how good it felt inside him. He can actually see its outline through Norway’s tight jeans, he notices now. That could become a bit of a problem.

“Ya wanna make a new bet?” Norway asks, as they slip out the back of the shop and join the bustle on the street.

“Depends,” Hong Kong says.

“How about…” Norway slings an arm around his shoulder and whispers in his ear, “I bet you can make me scream your name?”


End file.
